


At the Vet's

by rotrude



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Dogs, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 23:16:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8820172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rotrude/pseuds/rotrude
Summary: 'Tis the season for joy, and tree embellishing. Merlin's dog, Gandalf, agrees, to the point of snacking on ornaments. When Merlin finds out a trip to the vet becomes necessary.





	

**Author's Note:**

> (i)beta'd by the lovely Crideon, who's such a brilliant editor and (ii) based on a prompt by genius prompter brunettepet.

The tree stands tall in Merlin's living room; laden with candles and fairy lights, its tip brushing the very ceiling. Merlin loves Christmas so he went a bit overboard when he bought it, going for the most majestic, grandest fir the market had. It barely fits, and he needed Lance's help to get it in at all, but it looks gorgeous, covered in tinsel, ornaments, and ribbons. Merlin used the old stuff he got from his mum, and his new buys from his last shopping round. He mixed them all cleverly together and the result is something to be proud of.

“What do you think?” he asks Gandalf. “It's quite splendid, isn't it?”

Gandalf is sniffling at the crates that used to contain Merlin's fine spun glass baubles while making a strange noise in his throat. It's not exactly a cough, but close to it. Merlin goes over to him and, burying his hand in his fur, says, “Hey, what's wrong with you, mate?”

Gandalf makes more huffing, wheezing sounds, then stretches his paws and puts his head between them, scratching at the rug.

“What is it?” Merlin is sure it can't be fleas again. It's been a while since he took Gandalf to the town common and he’s had Gandalf cleaned and checked in the interval. He even has a special collar that's supposed to keep away the small bastards.

Gandalf whines and coughs, shuffling forward on his paws closer to Merlin.

Merlin looks to the bauble box. His newly bought Santa ornament was still in its wrapping, but now it’s suspiciously missing. There's no way for Merlin to have misplaced it, so he quickly puts two and two together. “You ate Santa, you hoover.”

Gandalf pitifully clears his throat in that doggy way of his.

“Don't worry, mate.” Merlin pats Gandalf between the ears. “I'll get you to a vet.”

 

*****

The anteroom is white-washed and sterile. A row of chairs sits along the wall with a few low tables in between. On the tables are magazines, piled one atop the other in disorderly stacks, with titles like Life in the Country, Cat and Hound, Your Pet, and The Bark.

Gandalf is lying at Merlin's feet, his muzzle resting on Merlin's shoe. From time to time he’ll wheeze out a cough, but it's getting feebler and that worries Merlin considerably.

He's about to go ask the receptionist – for the umpteenth time –, when the lady herself lifts her gaze from her computer screen. “You can go in now.”

“Finally,” Merlin says, giving Gandalf's leash a tug.

Gandalf doesn't move, rather digs his paws in, his head lowered. Merlin kneels and crouches over so he meets Gandalf’s misery-filled eyes.

“I know you know it's the vet's office.” Merlin's aware of Gandalf's preternatural sixth sense when it comes to avoiding vets. He can sniff them from miles away. It's his doggy super power. “But we must go in. You’re not well, mate.”

Gandalf huffs out a sorry-sounding bark, backtracking, nails scratching the floor.

Merlin gives the leash a yank. “Come on, Gandalf, don't be stubborn. I'm not above lifting all 65 kilos of you.”

He gets another baleful look, but Gandalf doesn't move.

“Okay, all right, you wanted it.”

Merlin staggers into Doctor Pendragon's exam room with a double armful of oversized dog.

Doctor Pendragon has just snapped on his surgical gloves as he turns around to greet Merlin. He's a veritable Adonis. His hair is blond and looks soft. His eyes are blue and slightly slanted at the corners. His jaw is sharp, strong, following precise lines. And his smile, when it appears, melts Merlin's bones. “Ah, I see we have a reluctant patient.”

“Gandalf hates vets.” Thinking ~~Adonis~~ , Doctor Pendragon might find that insulting either to his pride or profession, Merlin quickly amends. “He's mildly scared of them.”

Doctor Pendragon chuckles. “That's not mildly.” He gestures to the examination table. “Place him here before you throw out your back.”

Merlin grunts with gratitude. With slow steps, he trudges forward and deposits his burden on the table. “Stay,” he tells Gandalf.

“Beautiful specimen of Kuvasz,” Doctor Pendragon says, putting on his stethoscope. “You don't often see such big dogs around.”

“I know.” Merlin pats Gandalf's flank. “A friend had a Kuvasz who had seven puppies. He was rather eager to palm them off. I took one.”

“You have excellent taste.” Doctor Pendragon studies Gandalf. “So what's wrong with him?”

“I was doing up my Christmas tree when Gandalf ate a little Santa ornament.”

“Quite voracious, is he?” Doctor Pendragon asks, beaming at Merlin rather than the dog.

As if to make a point, Gandalf makes a coughing noise.

“I'm afraid Gandalf will eat anything.” Merlin, after all, remembers the time he ate half his laptop, and the occasion on which he buffeted on his belt. And that one time he swallowed Merlin's portable calculator. “My shoes are his favourite though.”

“I see,” Doctor Pendragon murmurs as he fiddles with the controls on the side of the exam table, marking Gandalf’s weight. Next Doctor Pendragon fills a syringe. “I'm going to sedate your dog so I can check his throat. He won’t be completely under, but should be much more agreeable to my examination.”

“Oh good.” Merlin would pay anything to make sure Gandalf was well, but full anaesthesia would have cost Merlin arm and a leg. And since Gandalf would bite the doctor's arm off if he so much as hovers close to his teeth, it seems Doctor Pendragon has found a way to save all limbs from harm. “I like you as you are.”

“Glad that's the case.” Doctor Pendragon pinches the skin around Gandalf's neck. “Now let's try to live up to your expectations.”

After instructing Merlin to distract poor Gandalf with his favourite rubs and scritches, Doctor Pendragon sedates him with ease. Once the dog's drooling mindlessly on the exam table, the doctor dons his goggles and searches Gandalf’s throat. “Ah, ah,” Doctor Pendragon says. “I see something shiny down here.”

“That must be the Santa.”

With a pair of forceps, he grasps the object and dislodges it from Gandalf throat. It’s coated in drool, effacing some of its parts, but it's definitely the missing Santa.

“That's it!” Merlin says. “That's the missing decoration.”

“I think it's safe to say that your dog--”

“Gandalf--”

“Gandalf is going to be all right.” Doctor Pendragon bins the Santa and takes off his surgical gloves. “He might be sore for a few days, might not be too keen to eat, but it's nothing that won't resolve itself. If he refuses food or water for more than 24 hours, bring him back in straight away.”

Doctor Pendragon writes out a few discharge instructions and hands the paper to Merlin.

Merlin offers Doctor Pendragon his hand to shake. “I don't know I can possibly thank you, really. Gandalf and I are a team and I don't know what I would have done if something had happened to him.”

Doctor Pendragon shakes Merlin's hand. “It's my job, Mr Emrys.”

“I know,” Merlin says, “but still, I'm really thankful, like honestly. And please call me Merlin.”

“I'm glad, Merlin.” Dr Pendragon's lips take a curl at both sides. “It means I've done my job well.”

Merlin can't help blabbering. It's in his nature. “If there's anything I can do for you in return...”

“Call me Arthur. As a matter of fact--” Doctor Pendragon drops his hand and looks downwards. “You could give me your number.”

“Of course.” Merlin's a great computer tech, his reputation as a tech wizard has clearly preceded him in this town. Everybody wants his number and if Doctor Pendragon needs his help, Merlin will fix all his devices. From his laptop, to his desktop, to his Kindle if he has one. “Here it is.”

Arthur writes down the number Merlin recites. “I'll, ehm, keep it safe.”

Before he leaves the office, Merlin shakes hands with the doctor again, the newly-awakened Gandalf trotting groggily after him.

****

On doctor’s orders, Merlin meanders around the pavement outside the veterinary clinic to give Gandalf the chance to shake off the sedative. The cool air and increasingly brisk pace of their walk does wonders for Gandalf. It’s almost like he didn’t nearly choke on an ill-advised Santa ornament doggy snack.

Merlin's walking past a series of festively accoutred shop windows on the way to his car, when he stops short. Gandalf tugs him towards their Fiesta, nearly sending him flying on the slippery snow, but Merlin gives his leash an equally forceful yank, and they both manage to hold their respective positions. Once Merlin's steady on his feet, he pulls out his mobile and phones Dr Pendragon's office.

When he's put through, Merlin asks the doctor. “Let me get this straight. Did you want my number for professional or personal reasons?”

“The answer depends on whether you'd be fine with the latter.”

Merlin doesn't even need to think. Doctor Arthur Pendragon is smart, personable and great with dogs. Plus: he’s an Adonis! “I would be. More than fine, in fact.”

“Then in that case it's a yes.”

Merlin knows he's fishing, but he speaks before he can think better of it. “So are you asking me out on a date?”

“Possibly,” Doctor Pendragon says.

“Good.” Merlin grins from ear to ear. “We can go ornament shopping. I've got to replace that Santa, after all. How about tomorrow?”

Dr Pendragon groans theatrically. “I’d rather not dislodge any more Christmas baubles from your dog's throat.” He chuckles. “But I'll be there.”

“See you then,” Merlin says.

Once he's hung up, he starts whistling a carol as they head toward his car, Gandalf joining in with some canine ululating on the higher notes.

The END


End file.
